How Does a Clown Smell Without A Nose?

He can't, he doesn't have a nose. That's not the point though. The point is this. Why, in my life , have I seen Three rogue sponge balls lying around on the floor. I guess that these incidents may have been five or so years apart but the point is they happened and It's very strange. A sponge ball is NOT the sort of thing you expect to see discarded at the side of the road. Not three times not one time. There they were though. Totally at random. In three seperate locations that were totally unrelated to each other and similarly unrelated to magic in genaral. Neither was there ANY evidence of a magician or a magic show either at the time or in the immediate past. Strange? Well it seems maybe not. You see something happened to me whilst I was walking from South Yarra train station to The Magic Store this morning. I glanbed down in to the gutter and saw another one. OMG I screamed (on the inside) Not another one! In this moment I seriously began to consider whether there was some pattern here, some message, some hidden meaning. That my whole life was working towards this moment. That Sponge balls were only fit for the gutter and that I should abandon all together my rock solid 1min routine that I do all the time both as a demo and also in the real world. A tiny voice was beggining to whisper. Yes they are garbage and they look camp as hell. Whenever someone sees you pull one out from your pocket or even behind their ear they want to actually kill you. But then the dust begain to settle. I ate the metaphoric sugar( so to speak) at the end of a metaphoric three hour pot smoking extravaganza and calm begain to pass over me in a wave of joy and peace. This wasn't a magician's sponge ball! It was a clown's sponge nose! For all I know the previous three incidents could have very well been exactly the same as this I just didn't know it then. A clown's nose discarded upon the road. Nothing to see here ladies and gentleman, noting at all unusual about that, especially in Melbourne where clowns go missing all the time. In Melbourne finding a discarded clown's nose on the floor is like finding a lost footy scarf. I picked up my step, I arrived at The Magic Store and grabbed those little absorbant spheres from the shelf and belted them out to the first person who walked through the door. It was OK. I had walked through the darkness and the universe was not actually speaking it's dark tones of foam to me. I had beaten the sponge kraken who is usually 6 times larger than he should be as he spends 24 hours a day under water. Taking a breather every now and then to eat a maiden or clash with a titan. The point was,I was alive.